Crossing the Line
by synchthebeat
Summary: A line separates Tsukishima from the rest of the world. It is a line that he himself has created - it is a borderline that only Yamaguchi has come close to stepping over. But when it becomes clear that Kuroo's feelings towards the blonde aren't simply ones of friendship, he can only stand and watch as that line is slowly erased by the army that the Nekoma captain creates.


**A/N: **well, hello. this fic is another excuse for tsukishima angst, but done in a way so that i can have some kurootsuki in here. i'm not great at romance stuff and i never have been, so don't come in here expecting major cute fluff and happy times or anything because that's not really what this fic is about.

actually, i'm not sure what this is about at all.

also you might not want to come in here expecting mega good writing or anything. that would be a really bad idea. because you'll be disappointed. and im not spending the time on it like i do take two.

everyone is still part of all the clubs that they should be a part of and everything - all that's really changed is tsukishima's history, but really, that sort of changes a lot which you might notice as you read this. the actual events that happen will be different ofc and probably start around the training camp after the inter high. purely since it's where we get more tsukishima - kuroo interaction. just seems like a good place to start.

if anyone here is a reader of take two and wondering what's going on with that, that probably won't be touched for a while, but i will work on it. it just most likely won't be updated for a very long time. apologies for that.

admittedly, i have no idea how updates are going to go for this either, but we can always try. i struggle a lot with longer fics that aren't one-shots so if any of you have ideas as this thing progresses, please fire away. i might not necessarily use it, but it'll most likely be handy. might even help give me an idea for something else. if you have ideas for kurootsuki scenes in this as we go that would be appreciated too because i am absolute shit at that stuff.

enough chatter - let's get this started.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Prologue<strong>_

Tsukishima kneels, stick in hand, drawing shapes on the sand below his feet. Someone else is here - four others are here, in fact, staring and laughing. Golden eyes flick up. They examine. The blonde thinks he's seen them in his class before, but he can't be sure. Remembering those in his class isn't, and never will be, a habit of his.

_"You're different to everyone else, Kei."_

That's what Daddy had said.

_"You're special."_

Tsukishima believes Daddy is right. He's tall. Too tall. _Or is everyone else just small? _It was a question he's asked himself once before. But then he remembered: he's special. He always found himself bored at school. All if felt like was a mockery of his ability and knowledge. What he couldn't understand was the happy expressions he saw on his classmates' faces. But then he remembered: he's special. When sat in front of a piano, he can glide his fingers over it without hesitation. But when the girl he thinks is the one who sits next to him in class is placed in front of a piano, she can barely move her left and right hands at the same time and play the correct notes.

And then he remembered.

He's special.

Something hits his hand and knocks the stick out of his grip. It hurts. They're laughing. What are they saying? Does it matter?

_"Your classmates can't understand you, Kei."_

Of course it doesn't. Why should he waste his time understanding someone that couldn't possibly comprehend his response? Projectiles prick at his skin over and over and that wonderful feeling of pain washes over him in pleasant waves. He thinks the corners of his lips have turned up, but his reflection isn't there for him to confirm it. The laugher reverberating around him turns to panicked shouting. The tallest of the group is in front of him now. He has something in his hand. It's wooden. It's dangerous. It's a weapon. It's flying towards his face.

Tsukishima lifts an arm up and the weapon collides with his wrist. He hears something crunch just as pain explodes like fireworks around the joint. It fascinates him so much he can't help but laugh louder and louder and louder. He's never felt so much joy before!

"Would you like to feel happy, too?" he asks, voice light, voice cheerful. The arm he had lifted up drops and the other comes up. Long bony fingers wrap around the weapon - it feels like a club, he thinks - and pulls. Protesting tugs come from the boy holding the other end, but a single yank has it free. Fists and shoes are pummelling uselessly into his body now, screams and shouts blending with laughter to create a perfect climax of a symphony.

Tsukishima raises the club up above his head and swings. Swings for the happiness of his classmates.

_"People are happy when they can understand each other."_

That's what Akiteru had said to him.

Both Tsukishima and his classmates know the feeling of euphoria pain grants. They could relate. They could understand each other. They could be _happy._

Eyelids climb up, allowing golden eyes to come into contact with a blurry wall. Sunlight filters in through half-closed curtains, striking the body of the volleyball player, of the highschooler, of Tsukishima Kei lying curled up under his sheets. It chases off the dream, the nightmare, the memory. But it can't defeat the dull throbbing in his wrist, nor can it defeat the painful tightening of his chest.

_"You're different to everyone else, Kei."_

That's what his father had said.

_"You're special."_

Tsukishima believes his father was right. There is a line that no one dares step over. A line that separates himself and the rest of the world. A borderline that only one has come near to crossing. He doesn't belong in the world of the living, but he's trapped. Trapped and so very, very alone - as he should be.

Tsukishima Kei is special because he is nothing more than a monster. He is trapped and so very, very alone as punishment. There is a borderline acting as a wall between him and the rest of the world that he himself created for only one reason: so he can accept his punishment without whatever resolve he may possess shattering into a million pieces. He was just so intent on protecting that resolve that he never realised quite how fragile the wall surrounding it really was.


End file.
